


As Long As You Love Me So

by IAmANonnieMouse



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Crack, Holiday, M/M, Secret Saito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:10:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: Arthur stares at the box in his lap. “Eames,” he says, “what the fuck.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oceaxe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/gifts).



> For oceaxereturns for Secret Saito. The prompt was "receipt." This...went a bit further than I expected it to.

Arthur stares at the box in his lap. “Eames,” he says, “what the fuck.”

Eames grins at him.

Wrapping paper is strewn all over the floor. Obnoxious holiday music is blasting through the house—some loud soprano is squawking away at the moment—and Eames has managed to stick a large bow to the top of Arthur’s head, complete with tinsel.

But all of that is negligible compared to the _thing_ sitting in his lap.

“Eames, seriously,” Arthur says. “What the fuck.”

Eames’ eyes widen and lips droop into a pout. “You don’t like it, darling?”

Arthur is not moved by Eames’ display. “It’s absolutely hideous,” he says. “And I want it out of my sight immediately.”

“Darling,” Eames croons, crawling across the floor towards him, “don’t be like that.”

“I’m serious, Eames.” Arthur brandishes the large, glittery, bright red phallic piece of rubber at him. “You better have kept the fucking receipt.”

~+~+~

Eames slinks into the room later that afternoon. Arthur glances at him suspiciously.

“Darling,” Eames starts.

“Eames,” Arthur says.

“I’m terribly sorry, but—”

“No.” Arthur covers his face with his hands. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“I can’t find the receipt.” Eames drapes himself over Arthur on the couch. “I’m sorry, darling,” he whispers and kisses the top of Arthur’s head.

Normally, Arthur would be charmed by that, would smile and lean back against the warmth that surrounded him. But these are far from normal circumstances.

“Eames,” he says, “I will not allow that thing to be in my house for the rest of our lives.”

Eames sighs so heavily that Arthur’s own body moves. “But darling, we can’t just throw it out. I spent good money on that.”

Arthur turns to look at him. “Now you know better.”

“It was supposed to be a marvelous surprise,” Eames mumbles.

“Oh, it was a surprise alright.”

“But not a marvelous one?”

“Not a marvelous one in the least.”

They sit on the couch in silence, watching the mind-numbing movie on TV, complete with brain cell-destroying informercials. Eames shifts, jostling Arthur slightly.

“What about at work?” he asks.

Arthur sits up. “We are not bringing that to work, Eames, Jesus Christ.”

“No, I mean the Secret Santa,” Eames says. “Can we give it to one of our Secret Santas at work?”

Arthur sighs. “Tell me again why the Secret Santa exchange is happening _after_ the holidays?”

“Because nobody organized it in time,” Eames dutifully answers.

“Oh, right.”

“But,” Eames says, “this could work out very nicely for us, don’t you think?”

Arthur glances at him. “Eames, I got Cobb. I’m not giving our boss a fucking sparkly dildo.”

“Why not?” Eames asks, wide-eyed.

Arthur shakes his head. “Who did you get?”

“Saito.”

_”Saito?”_

“Yes.”

“Our boss’ boss.”

Eames looks at him strangely. “I suppose, yeah.”

Arthur collapses against Eames’ side. “We definitely can’t give _him_ the giant sparkly dildo.”

“So, Cobb, then,” Eames says with a smile.

Arthur sighs. “Cobb.”

~+~+~

They wrap it in tissue paper and put it in a nice, festive bag, complete with ribbons and glitter, as per Eames’ decorating standards. On the table with the other gifts, it looks innocent and nondescript.

Arthur can’t stop staring at it.

“Darling, you look like you’re trying to destroy it with your eyes,” Eames murmurs into his ear. “Please stop, you’re making us look suspicious.”

Arthur stares at him instead.

Eames bears this bravely, making silly faces at Arthur and wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Arthur leans in and whispers in his ear, “You promise we don’t have to actually admit who our Secret Santas were?”

Eames nuzzles his temple. “Promise,” he breathes. “And if it comes to that, I will fall on that sword for you, darling. You can take Saito.”

Arthur smiles at him. “I knew you loved me.”

“Never doubt it,” Eames answers, pinching the tip of his nose before he can back away.

One of the women who organized this debacle goes down the table, reading the names on each gift. Horrifyingly, they make everyone open it at the front of the room.

Cobb’s name is called. He steps forward, paws through the wrapping paper, turns an alarmingly deep shade of red, and hurriedly returns to his seat.

“Dom!” the woman at the front of the room whines. “What is it?”

“Uh, nothing!” Dom says, tucking the bag under his chair. “Nothing much. It’s, uh. Merry Christmas, everyone!”

The room is silent for a long moment. “Okay!” the woman says. She moves on.

Eames gets called next. His present is a lava lamp. He holds it over his head, laughing gaily.

Later, Arthur is called. His gift is in a small bag with red, glittery tissue paper. He carefully sorts through it and reaches for the small object at the bottom. It rolls out of the tissue paper, then lands on the table with a dull thud.

Arthur stares at it in horror as the room erupts in laughter.

“Eames, you lying bastard,” he shouts, grabbing the vibrator, “what the fuck!”


End file.
